The City of the Sparkians in Darkhold: A PARODY
by ichigoxringo
Summary: Electric currents may shock/injure/cause seizures if you stick something into the outlet. In case of emergency, please contact your local physician or call 1-800-DOONWUZHERE for information about...bugs. This has been a PSA from EMBER. JAN 12, 2010
1. THE FANFICTION OF DOOM

Disclaimer: I don't Ember

Disclaimer: I don't Ember. D: That's Jeanne DuPrau. If you're looking for her, she's in California. I'm but a humble hobo named Maddie (or Lin. Or Line. Or Ringo. Whichever you prefer.), living on the streets of Florida. Jeanne, I mean you no insult. I'm just a sucker for comedy.

If you can't handle a joke, don't read this. It will involve some bashing, possibly homosexuality, and maybe, just maybe, some PG13 moments that will forever make the eyes of young virgin children bleed. Tragic. So. Yeah. You've been warned.

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_There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call…-_ding ding ding ding ding ding ding- THE CITY OF EMBER FANFICTION ARCHIVE!

Doon, do-do, DOOOOON! (trumpets, confetti, la!)

**A City of Ember Parody**

…wait. No. One sec, needs a little _bling-bling_….put this here…add that…Ah! Here we go:

**The City of the People of Sparks from Darkhold.**

An Ichigoxringo Parody.

By Ichigoxringo.

In association with ichigoxringo

Co-written with ichigoxringo

…

**DOON WAS HERE, LAWLS, FTW! ):D**

Dammit, Doon, stop writing on my fic! D:

_-and so begins the chase-_

_Chapter 1: The Great Underground City._

Once upon a time there was a small underground city, inhabited by very pale mole people, called Ember. (ooh ahhh!)

As it happens, sometime in the future there will be this giant thing which will come to be known as "T3H Gr3A7 D1ZAZT3R, FTW!!11!!one!!111!!one!!" but that is, unfortunately, a story for another day.

In this city lives a young girl who loves to run named Lina. (Now, as you may recall, I said they were mole people. But that doesn't mean their blind. They just happen to like dirt, is all…)

Now, Lina was a student in the school of Ember, the only place for education in that…err…city.

In Ember, upon the graduation from 8th grade, the government forces all the good little boys and girls into _hard labor_. Yay!

So.

On the day of the-assigning-of-the-tasks-you-will-be-forced-to-do-for-the-rest-of-your life-whether-you-like-it-or-not, Lina jumped up out of her seat when her name was called and walked to the front of the room, where she greeted the mayor with a bubbly "Hello! Isn't life B-E-A-Utiful?!" to which the mayor responded with a not-so-bubbly grunt and a "Hurry up and pick already. I got spinning classes at three."

Although Doon, a boy who was rather chronically-upset and intelligently curious by nature, snorted quietly to himself at the quick exchange, the entire class looked back at him, shushing him loudly.

"Fine, jeeze," he said, wide-eyed and flabbergasted. Why was everyone so _mean_ to him all the time? He went back to resting her head on his hand and looking upset, as was common Doon fashion.

Lina picked a slip of paper out of the sack—the paper that decided her future.

Lina turned to the class, biting back her lip in excitement. She held the paper in front of her, shut her eyes, and took a deep breath.

In a second, her eyes opened and her cheery expression just deflated.

"…Messenger…"

That's what she had hoped for. Instead, she got "**Pipeworks Laborer.**" In the corner, Fate had scribbled the words "haha, sux 4 u, huh, Line?!" Lina made a sad face. "My name's not 'Line!'" she cried.

She scuttled back to her desk in embarrassment. There was no job worse than Pipeworks Laborer, in her honest opinion. How could she have such terrible luck?!

"Doon," called the teacher. Doon stood up. It felt nice to stretch. Doon was a growing emo boy, though. It wasn't supposed to feel nice to stretch. His world is a bleak inky blackness. _No feeling nice!_ he reminded himself.

By now he had reached the front of the room and stuck his hand in the sack.

Lizzie, one of Lina's friends, had been admiring his rather nice-looking rear-end. Instantly, however, she remembered she had a boyfriend, Looper, and that admiring other people's nice-looking rear-ends was a no-no.

Doon pulled out a slip of paper and read it: "**Messenger.**" On the corner, someone—Fate, he guessed—had written "haha, sux 4 u, huh, Droon?!"

"But…My name's…Doon." The slight misspelling drove Doon into hysterics, crying like the city was about to run out of power forever and he would have to work together with someone he doesn't even talk to—someone _cheerful—_to save it…oh, wait…!

As Lina walked out of the school later that day with a fake smile poorly plastered on her face, she saw Doon leaning against a wall. She walked passed him slowly, looking at him. "What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy brooding over my dumb luck?" He asked. Lina stopped. Clearly she had been _that_ obvious.

"Isn't there something you want to ask me…?" She hinted. He was forgetting his lines.

"I don't like you like that," Doon responded gruffly.

"No, not about that. About _these_…" She looked at him, waving her tiny slip of paper. He looked back.

"Oh…OOOOOOOH! Yeah. Hey, wanna trade?!"

"Um. Sure. I'd love to…?"

She had really meant to ask if Fate had spelt his name wrong, too…

TO BE CONTINUED.

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**Authors Note**: . I read ember two years ago and my friends borrowing it right now. If anything is wrong, feel free to correct me, but only about chronological order of the book. This is a parody, it's not supposed to be the same; just have the same character backgrounds and chronological order of events.

Expect the rest of the chapters to be longer.


	2. Whatever Happens in Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't Ember

Yoyoyo: Checkit, G. I saw the City of Ember movie. Oh yeah, be jealous. You know you want this. I couldn't take my eyes off of Doon. Omigawsh, Harry Treadaway was beautifullllll. Don't hate. And that mole, OMIGAWD, it made me so hot. But it was kind of disturbing, actually. It had, like, 20 penises coming out of its face. Eww. Everyone in the theater was all "Omigawsh, it's raping Lina's hand!" They didn't need to use the STAR-NOSED MOLE. They could've used a REGULAR MOLE. But no. They just wanted to draw thousands of penises.

_Chapter 2: Whatever happened in Chapter 2…D:_

Lina ran pretty damn fast. She was so excited she could have sung. But she didn't for the sake of Ember's people's ears. She took the quickest route possible in order to get home. She was so happy she got the job she wanted, and it was all because of Doon Harrow, the cutest little emo in all the land. :)

Back when they were wee little mole-people, Lina and Doon had been friends. But then something tragic happened…

(OHSHI—Flashback time!)

The year was 1786. I had just returned from my voyage to central Europe—wait…that's not it. That's one of the memoirs I wrote…Hmm…AH! Here.

In their fourth year of school, Lina and Doon began to grow apart, like a sad little cell that produces asexually, or an amoeba that splits in half to create another being. It happened after school one day during free hour where the children were allowed to play in front of the school UNSUPERVISED (oh, they were such rebels.)

The children were shouting out things they could do. Boasting their Olympic feats, if you will. Lina's was the most amazing—"I can climb the light pole!" There was a gasp. Everyone stood still. No one believed she could actually do it. But despite this, she began taking off her socks and shoes and jumped onto the pole like she was Spiderman or something. She didn't get very far before she lost her footing and fell. "In my defense, my peers, I never said I would reach the top. I merely stated that I could climb the pole, which I did. So. Who wants to go next?" she asked. No one moved, mostly because they didn't know a fourth-grader had such a vocabulary…

After a second, everyone scrambled for the pole, trying to best each other. Finally, Doon was up to bat. He took of his socks and shoes and began to climb. He was pretty beastly at it, too. He got farther than Lina and all the rest, but then his hands slipped and he came plummeting down. He landed on his butt with his legs poking up in the air.

Lina guffawed. Soon everyone started laughing at the Little Soon-to-Be Emo that Couldn't. Doon sat up and glowered. He had never been so embarrassed. He got up quickly and pointed an accusing finger at Lina. She stopped laughing and stared. He shouted "That was a stupid idea anyway! How would ever want to climb a pole, other than a stripper! It was just a stupid, stupid idea! And you're stupid for even thinking of it!" he kept shouting about the stupidity of it all (which made Lina rather upset, so upset she began to cry) until the teacher finally came and brought Doon in so he could get a scolding he didn't think he deserved….deserved….deserved…

The scene flashed and blurred as the flashback ended.

Lina opened her door and shouted "Grandma! Grandma!" Grandma sat up. (Not my grandma…Lina's. If it was my Grandma I'd call her "Abuelita Gloria." Just FYI.)

"I'm a messenger!"

"No you're not you filthy rotten liar. You're not a beautiful and unique snowflake either, so don't go around saying you're one of those, Dear. You're the same decaying organic matter as everyone else. So, deal," Grandma said. Lina frowned.

"But, today was Assignment Day. I PICKED MESSENGER!"

"No you didn't! That emo kid did. You picked 'Pipeworks Laborer'." Grandmother was not amused.

"But we _traded_," Lina elaborated. Grandma's face lightened up. "Oh that's fantastic! I'm so proud of you! You and him will have beautiful little babies together! Mazel Tov!" Grandma shifted around gleefully and threw the insides of the couch in the air. "Grandma! What are you talking about?! We're not getting married! And we're not Jewish, either." Grandma frowned.

"Wait 'til book 4, hun. Oh, the beauty of implications…"

Meanwhile, at Harrow's Little Item Shop…

Doon was rummaging through the drawers. "Little items shop, my butt," he muttered to himself. His father, Loris, walked in.

"Doon, what are you doing?" he asked.

"What king of shop do we run, father dearest?" Doon asked while still shifting through the drawers.

"A little items shop, son." Loris seemed puzzled. "Why? If it's one of the kids at school making fun of you because you come from a low income home in the hood just tell me and I'll—"

"No, Dad. I'm asking because I'm surprised there are NO SHARP OBJECTS HERE!"

"I got rid of them all when I saw you cutting your wrists and getting aroused from it."

"You saw that?!"

"Yes!"

"Know what? I'm through. I'm done with life. I hate you!" And with that, Doon ran upstairs to contemplate his own suicide.

Loris sat down and mused.

"I just can't wait till they shack up, procreate, and get outta my life for good."

Authors Note: Yeah. It's short. Well, I have writers block. I'm also starting a foundation/society/cult/secret club.

The WCoEFDYaIWDYAPoD!! In other words: Write City of Ember Fan fictions and I Will Draw You a Picture of Doon! For every new fan fiction someone writes, Deviant art receives from ME a drawing of the lusciously fab Doon and his equally lusciously fab bum.

;D

You know you want it.


	3. Chapter the Third, Biznitch

I would write an Authors Note here, saying that I don't own the series "The City of Ember." But that would be predictable, wouldn't it?

CHAPTER THREE.

Doon woke up that morning at four AM—partially because of excitement, partially because of the wet sensation creeping down his pant leg.

"Damn," he muttered.

Clearly psychotherapy did nothing to cure him of his bedwetting.

He scurried downstairs and began making breakfast. The sounds of shuffling about, various boxes being shaken, and pots and pans being banged woke up Loris, who slept in the bedroom downstairs.

Loris shuffled out of bed and into the kitchen, where he saw his son making Mac n Cheese.

"Son, what are you doing?" he asked.

"Get the fuck back, bitch!" Doon exclaimed, tears welling up in his eyes. He raised his empty macaroni box. "You don't know my life!"

After Doon's strange outburst in the wee hours of the morning, Loris found it difficult to send him off to his first day of work. Not because he was worried about his son's psychological well-being. He was more concerned about whether Doon would make any friends. Would the guys at work like him? Or would they tease him for being from a low-income household in the hood?

It was as these thoughts plagued Loris' mind that Doon packed his lunch—the mac and cheese from earlier—and set off to work.

Doon opened the door to Pipeworks exactly 3 hours later—as it happened, he got lost twice, and almost ended up getting conned by an ugly whore, whom he sucker-punched in the jaw. He was greeted by an obscenely tall, greasy fat man with grey-brown tufts of stringy hair poking out of his helmet. Doon didn't know what to say. Thankfully, the grease-man did.

"Hey, kid," the walking dirt rag whispered coarsely. "You want some candy?"

Suddenly, Doon's expression lit up. "Boy, would I!" he responded.

Greasy put his arm around Doon and led him into the dark bowels of the Pipeworks factory. He showed him into a small room, rivaled only in filthiness by the dirt bag himself. Then, Greasy preformed something that awed Doon into complete and total stillness.

The top half of grease man disappeared into the neck of his coat, and then crawled out underneath the hem, the coat collapsing until it reached what Doon had believed was the mans waist.

Apparently, Tall, Dark, and Greasy was a pair of midgets who wanted to see what it was like to be tall. The bottom midget climbed out of the too-big coat and hung the habiliment on a coat rack nearby. Then, he opened a cabinet and pulled out a plastic cauldron filled to the brim with candy, stickers, tiny notebooks, and pencils. He tossed a mini-Snickers at Doon.

Doon cried when he missed the catch.

Then, lower midget left the room, leaving Doon alone with the other dwarf.

"Stop crying," he said gruffly. "Your eyeliner is running."

Doon was about to object, saying that the blackness of the eyeliner, mixed with his tears, represented the inky-black sadness that filled his tortured soul, but then he remembered he was absolutely terrified of dwarves and closed his mouth.

"My name is Lister Munk, Pipeworks director. What size foot do you have—small, medium, or large?"

"…medium?"

"Alright, then." Then, the midget produced a pair of boots and an ugly, perky, yellow rubber jumpsuit and tossed them at Doon, who proceeded to put them on.

Then, Lister led him out of the room and into the dark recesses of Pipeworks.

"It's not usually this dark, Lister commented. Damn generator is breaking."

"I like it dark," Doon said wistfully. "It reminds me of my soul."

"Too bad," Lister said, and then slapped Doon. "Due to health insurance issues, we can't have people working in hazardous places, where they run the risk of getting hurt. You'll be working…here." With that introduction, Lister opened a door into a rock-walled factory, where hundreds of happy laborers chatted and gossiped and participated in all-around joyous merrymaking. Doon shivered.

"I-I can't work here! It's too joyous."

As Lister led Doon around, introducing him to all the jovial workers, Doon marveled at the sheer jollity of it all. He had hoped that being underground would provide him with a nice, quiet, _dark_ escape from life. But the party at the workbench next to his—which was currently cheering on a drunk fat man trying to crack open a piñata—only proved how wrong he was.

Doon sat down and pathetically began to attempt hammering a green herring to the wall.

A cockroach scuttled next to his hand. Doon waved his hammer and grunted a pathetic "hello." The insect squeaked in response.


End file.
